Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 92070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
In a way that scares me.
But I like that too. Because it's him. Because I trust him. Because I need him. Because I need everything.
He uses me the way I asked him to, driving into me again and again, holding my body against his as he comes.
I can feel it in the way his breath changes, the way his nails sharpen, the way his cock pulses inside me.
It scares me.
And I like that too.
And when we collapse onto the bed, everything is perfect, and we are exactly where we should be.
All night, the world is perfect.
The morning, the trip to the airport, the flight—we stay in our space, watching old movies together, talking tattoos, drinking bad wine, and eating too much French chocolate.
The second we finish customs and step into what is officially the United States, he starts to shift. The distance grows on our ride home, as he helps me unload my stuff, even when we kiss in my room.
The second my mom arrives home and says hello to Dare, I see it.
Real life is different.
And all those questions we put aside are back.
And neither of us has the answers.
Chapter Forty
VAL
For three days, I re-adjust to Pacific Time. I stay up late. I wake up early. I bury myself in preparation for school.
Dare helps me pack, but he doesn't linger at my place. He leaves before my mom arrives, before he can make small talk with my sister, before we have the chance to have sex in my bed.
Day four, I wake up at eight with a sense of ease. School is starting soon. Southern California is beautiful. And the distance I feel between my best friend and me is in my head. It has to be.
He's tired too. He's adjusting too. He's busy too.
So, when my mom announces a going away party, I don't fight her. And when I say I'm inviting Dare, and she looks at me funny, like she's not sure why I don't want to invite my best friend, I don't dive into the subject.
So what if she doesn't approve?
It's my life, not hers.
When my friends from school arrive, and they start talking about French auteurs and PhD sessions, I don't think anything of it.
Even when Dare finally arrives and he looks around the room with curious eyes, when he gets that familiar look on his face—what am I doing here—I tell myself it doesn't matter.
But, deep down, I know it does.
Chapter Forty-One
DARE
Even though it's packed with Val's friends and family and humming with the mix of conversation and Spanish-language love songs, Val's mom's house matches the image in my memory perfectly.
The place is still the opposite of my dad's house. Framed art, clean carpets, soft furniture in shades of red and orange.
The place screams of Val's mom, of her unique mix of maternal fierceness and creative energy.
She doesn't just have the ear of a poet. She has the eye of a designer too. Everything fits together in just the right way.
Poor Val has no artistic talent. She loves visuals, images, the unique combination of the two on film, but she's a critic, not a creator.
She's too removed, too intellectual, too analytical.
She curses that sense, sometimes, but it's one of the things I love about her. She turns her passion to existing works of art, dissecting them, understanding them, putting them together in a new light.
And now, she has the perfect place to combine head and heart.
She has this big, beautiful future in front of her, and everyone here knows it.
Two of Val's friends—a girl in glasses and a sweater vest and a guy in slacks and a button-up shirt—study me carefully. Even though I'm dressed up for this, even though my long-sleeved shirt is covering most of my tattoos, they see it.
I'm not from this world.
I don't belong.
The guy approaches with a forced smile. "How do you know Val?"
What did she tell them about me? "I grew up next door."
He nods that makes sense. "Do you still live there?"
"My dad does," I say. "I'm in Santa Monica."
"Are you in school too?" he asks.
"No." This is always the sticking point at her parties. I'm the uneducated guy.
"Oh. What do you do?"
I try to find some polite thing to say, some way to stay in his world, but I've got nothing. "Excuse me. I'm gonna get a drink. You want something?"
"No, thank you." He looks at me funny, but he doesn't stop me from leaving.
I move to the bar as quickly as possible. It's not stocked the way I need. There are a few bottles of wine, a bowl of chips, a cooler of beer.
Right on cue, Val emerges from the kitchen with a pitcher of sangria. She zones in on me immediately. Her lips curl into a smile. A pure, perfect smile.
All of it is I love you. I want you. I want to be in our world, together.